Fighting Mass Incarceration

So this weekend sucked something fierce. Literal Nazis figuratively trolling the nation, at the cost of at least three lives and putting at risk whatever dignity America has left. Taking ideals of justice and equality and pissing on them in the glow of burning crosses and tiki torches picked up in the garden supply department on their way to the white hood convention.

Not that anyone paying attention has a tremendous amount of faith left in the ‘justice’ system in this great land of ours.

My response [other than to tumble in to the Fbook rabbit hole for a minute and do some howling at the TV and at the walls of the apartment] was to go to Secret Project Robot on Saturday afternoon-into-evening for their benefit for JustLeadershipUSA under the name “Music Against Mass Incarceration.”

Think of it as a blow against the empire. Or at least the prison industrial complex.

Amazing set from Sunwatchers

My new favorite band, 75 Dollar Bill.  

Incredible performance from Brandon Lopez Trio (Nate Wooley on trumpet, Gerald Cleaver percussion)


Chris Forsythe & Solar Motel Band

Gold Dime

You don't need me to rattle off the stats - the prison system is out of control and in danger of spiraling even worse; it targets the poor and people of color, arguably by design.  That day, rather than get sucked in and take the bait of the King of the Trolls and his Address to the Nation - absolutely enraging though it was - I showed up, paid my admission, and engaged with some actual, living, positive creation.  For what it's worth, I recommend it.

Oh, Canada

We went to Toronto for the first time on Canada Day Weekend (which intersects with 4th of July weekend, as it happens).  Charmed as hell to see this guy as the plane flew into the city airport.  

This year celebrates Canada's 150th birthday, so recognitions of that were all over the place.

Not content to have one night of parties for such a big milestone, there were concerts and fireworks several days in a row - we caught one incarnation.

Our first stop after checking in was the SkyDome (which is now named after a cell service company, I guess) for a Blue Jays/Red Sox game.  We missed the first inning and change because, well, we were coming to the game from Newark, but that did not spoil our day. The dome was open when we got there, but some rain started a few innings in so they closed it mid-game.

Our next stop was a brewery/restaurant, where we grabbed seats at the bar and got as much info from the fantastic bartender as we could about places to go.  

We walked our asses off, like you do when you're in a city you don't (yet) know well. Great city, many fab neighborhoods, super friendly people, really good food and drink, good public transportation, great street art, robust art & performance scene all around.

On multiple recommendations, we went to the AGO and caught, among other things, a show focusing on Canadian artists, with a particular eye on indigenous artists [as you can imagine, the whole "this nation was formed 150 years ago! Woo hoo!" story plays pretty differently among the indigenous population and allies].  Also caught a retrospective of Rita Letendre, whom I hadn't heard of; the show was an excellent, necessary corrective to that.

So yes, Oh, Canada - you're not perfect, and your dreamboat of a Prime Minister has made some sketchy compromises and gets off super easy because of his disastrous counterpart to the south, but you are a (relatively) open society with an eye on human rights, and what appears to be an open mind about truth and reconciliation with the people who have lived on this continent for millennia.

Plus, Toronto has an airport you can get to via a 90 second ferry ride, which is pretty bitchin.

Tales from Three Cities

Not that I have necessarily been seeking them out, but stories about gentrification (and hyper-gentrification, which appears to be where we are now) have been increasingly crossing my field of vision.

Los Angeles (Boyle Heights specifically) - a group of tenant activists claim that an influx of artists and shops perceived to be art-adjacent (and arguably investment properties disguised as art spaces) are harbingers of community-eviscerating gentrification already in the works.

Photo: Timo Saarelma

San Francisco - a much less nuanced tale of landlords literally (allegedly) burning down dwellings in order to get rid of protected tenants. Appalling.

Closer to home, an event at the great Housing Works bookstore cafe in New York - drawn to that while hunting down information about the announced closing of the Sunshine Cinema.  It's a launch for the book version of the fabulous-while-infuriating Vanishing New York, complete with a performance by friend and fellow-traveler Penny Arcade.  This is happening next Thursday, July 27 - see you there.

Censorship and Speech

I had composed a pretty good (if I may say so myself; at any rate it took some effort) entry for my first post after what I think has been my longest hiatus from this platform since I began, in recognition of Day 101 of the current presidential administration.  It covered some of the events since the election, including national and international reactions, and wrapped with a parallel to Orwell’s Room 101.   But that batch of writing and linking was lost to the vagaries of the internets.  And so it goes.

Rather than try to recreate that, what I’m posting today is a set of two different perspectives on free speech and restrictions to speech published recently in the Times. 

From the first piece, by insistent dissident Ai Weiwei

The most elegant way to adjust to censorship is to engage in self-censorship. It is the perfect method for allying with power and setting the stage for the mutual exchange of benefit. The act of kowtowing to power in order to receive small pleasures may seem minor; but without it, the brutal assault of the censorship system would not be possible. 

For people who accept this passive position toward authority, “getting by” becomes the supreme value. They smile, bow and nod their heads, and such behavior usually leads to lifestyles that are comfortable, trouble free and even cushy. This attitude is essentially defensive on their part. It is obvious that in any dispute, if one side is silenced, the words of the other side will go unquestioned.

And from the second, by Ulrich Baer, vice provost at New York University. 

What is under severe attack, in the name of an absolute notion of free speech, are the rights, both legal and cultural, of minorities to participate in public discourse. The snowflakes sensed, a good year before the election of (the president), that insults and direct threats could once again become sanctioned by the most powerful office in the land. They grasped that racial and sexual equality is not so deep in the DNA of the American public that even some of its legal safeguards could not be undone. 

The issues to which the students are so sensitive might be benign when they occur within the ivory tower. Coming from the campaign trail and now the White House, the threats are not meant to merely offend. Like (the president's) attacks on the liberal media as the “enemies of the American people,” his insults are meant to discredit and delegitimize whole groups as less worthy of participation in the public exchange of ideas.

Both are worth a full read.  I have tended to be something of a free speech absolutist, though maybe not exactly the variety branded by Baer; however, Baer's points (or more accurately, points he distills from decades’ worth of writing and public discussion on the topic) are valid, and essential to consider when forming opinions - and policies - concerning, for example, speaking events on campuses. Baer hosted a fascinating panel at the NYU Law School “In Defense of Truth” a couple weeks ago, concerning the concept of truth - not least, the durability of ideas that feel true, across any spectrum you care to name - as seen through the lenses of art, journalism, and the law. 

For now, I'll leave you with a few more images touching on surveillance, education, infrastructure, and public protections from the Ai Weiwei show we saw at the Tate Modern a while back.

Adventures in Public Art

Couple items from HyperAllergic, which has fast become one of my favorite sources for news from the art world.

First this, (read it!) about the amazing Carol Highsmith's billion-dollar scuffle with Getty Images over them charging for images THAT SHE DONATED to the Library of Congress.

And then getting even closer to home, this one, about the controversy over some Mr. AbiLLity street art (commissioned street art, mind you) in Jersey City. This is a city dear to my heart, likely the place I'd move to if I were moving to the area today, but which needs to get its ish together stat.

photo: @lifeisamother/Instagram

Between this nonsense at the Newark Ave. pedestrian plaza, and the ongoing obstructionism over at the Loew's Landmark Theater in Journal Square... it hath made me mad.  I mean, ok sure: Getty Images, eff them, what do you expect? (let's hope the courts make them pay richly for their greed)  But Jersey City ought to be a place that looks after the people who live and work there.




I know Mayor Fulop has his hands full fighting with Chris Christie, and I won't argue with that, but come on - this?  Stymying the artistic voices - the local, homegrown or transplanted artists right there in the middle of the living, breathing city - that actually add to the community?  Step it up, JC.

Avant Garde

So this is kind of exciting.

All issues of Avant Garde Magazine have been made available for online viewing in their entirety.



It ran from 1968-71, 14 issues in total, published by the controversial Ralph Ginzburg.

Not universally beloved; there was particular loathing from some of the font fanatics (not to say fetishists) of the world (and support from others) against Avant Garde typeface created by art director Herb Lubalin.



You can view the issues online here, or download them courtesy the brilliant Internet Archive here.

Zaha Hadid

One more image to add to the vast gallery appearing everywhere celebrating Zaha Hadid.

This is from the Guy Fawkes trip a couple years back.

Casa Comalat

Not Gaudí this time.

Casa Comalat was designed by Salvador Valeri i Pupurull

One question possibly worth asking: does your building (painting, photo, poem, music, play, work) make the world more interesting, or less?

Bicycle Chandelier

More Ai Weiwei.  Who knows something about blogs.

Chandelier sculpture from the 2015 exhibition at the Royal Academy in London.

 Constructed from beaded bicycle frames.

 Medium of mobility, not-quite-pedestrian, quotidian symbol of China, dripping with faux crystal.

Suuuuuure It's not a Gingerbread House

One of the entrance buildings at Park Guell.  Originally used for offices, and a sort of holding area for the customers wanting to buy plots and build residences (customers who pretty much never turned up, as it happened), it is now a gift shop.  Also one of the many dragon motifs that turn up in Gaudi.  

But ain't nobody telling me he wasn't thinking about a gingerbread house. 

Light and Shadow

PALAU DE LA MÚSICA CATALANA

What Ai Weiwei Has to Say

Sunday before the Iowa caucus

Gaudi made a cross out of a quarry.

(Ok, a lot of crosses)

Religious ecstasy has inspired great art, profound ideas, innumerable acts of kindness.  Religion has also been a mask for brutal acts of terror, and churches (or Churches) have bolstered entire repressive governments [talkin' Barcelona blues; the Fascists were backed by the Church from the get-go].

Vote your conscience.  Put some thought into it.  Pray about it if that's your thing.  Don't forget your history.

Macbeth of the What, Now?

The question of why our show was called Macbeth of the Oppressed has come up several times, from several different quarters.  There was no evident reference to the work of Augusto Boal, and the idea of a near-future setting/forces of political correctness that showed up in some of the initial advertising flavor/promotion materials had fairly well evaporated by the time we got to rehearsals.



Now, I was simply an actor in this show, and the question was not addressed at length in the rehearsal room, at least not in my presence, but my thoughts on our arguably oblique title boil down to race, gender, and sexuality as they are presented/performed in civic and military life.



We live in a time and place where there is at least some kind of appetite for diversity in the world of creating theater. And while this impulse does intersect with the population in general, there is a decided lag in the public sphere.  We are still waiting for a female head of state in this country, and there are precious few out queer leaders of governments or military branches anywhere in the world.



Note that those links refer to positions held within the last single-digit number of years.  Note at the same time that some of the forms of oppression inherent in that fact would seem to have been absent, in some important ways, in the ancient world.  I contend that the title of our show asks what that might tell us about the concepts of 'progress,' 'power,' and, not least, 'oppression.'



And that's what I have to say about that.

Also, since we're on the subject of witches, Happy Halloween!

Nimoy

What can you say? By all accounts a kind and generous person, thoughtful, caring, devoted to the arts and helping humanity and the environment, with a great sense of humor, he created one of the most iconic characters of the 20th Century (and beyond).  He'll be missed by entire generations of fans and fellow travelers.

Women to women

That night, we went to see the Sa Dance Company perform.  The house was full and performance was full to bursting with life – streaks of color and movement that simultaneously pulse with celestial abandon and the down-to-the-finger precision of Indian dance.  So who am I to talk about Indian dance tradition? Nobody.  But it was fab to see this group of mostly amateur but highly trained and experienced women cover ground from strict classicism to Bollywood exuberance.

Then on Sunday we went to the Kara Walker “A Subtlety” exhibition at the Domino Sugar Factory in Williamsburg. As much great stuff as we'd read about this, it was more amazing than we’d dared expect.

The full title was: "A Subtlety, or the Marvelous Sugar Baby an Homage to the unpaid and overworked Artisans who have refined our Sweet tastes from the cane fields to the Kitchens of the New World on the Occasion of the demolition of the Domino Sugar Refining Plant."

Sugar baby, tar baby, Sugar Mammie Sphinx - sugar and molasses sculptures standing, melting, decaying and laying in wait, accusing and celebrating and remembering the people who worked, lived, and died in the sugar harvesting & refining industries. 

A history that stretches from the triangle of trade in slave, cash, and cane cargo from Europe to Africa to the Americas and back finds one end in this defunct Domino plant in Williamsburg, up and running until less than a decade ago.

There's so much written out there that I feel I can't add a lot to the conversation, especially since it's scarcely my story to tell.

There was a performance artist there, in green and black tiger print spandex, with a 'hidden' videographer (I didn't see him until later) getting footage of people's reactions to her as she walked the space.

At one point after she'd been there I don't know how long she let out a piercing scream standing in front of the sphinx who dominated the space (and most of the coverage of the exhibition).

She had a partner (also in spandex, black and yellow I think), who gave a simultaneous scream - no words, just an outcry - from the other end of the sphinx sculpture.

I don't know who they are or anything about them.  It wasn't this guy, who seems to have done something along similar lines, but including verbal statement and follow-up. But they were there. They were there on that day, as this art work was there, as generations of factory work happened there, and the work that built this place - this culture, this nation, this economy - happened, in the physical universe, for better and/or for worse, for a few hundred years.